


Auditore

by Da_Vinci_101 (Metonic_Cycle)



Series: Only a Bird [5]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Claudia finally calls him out on his stupidity, Ezio still doesn't know how to handle feelings, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28364994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metonic_Cycle/pseuds/Da_Vinci_101
Summary: He hesitates, standing there beside the desk for what seems like hours, but is really only about a minute. And then finally he picks up Leonardo’s letter.The sheet of paper feels incredibly heavy in his hands, even though he knows full well it weighs about the same as Antonio’s letter. Rationality, as it turns out, has never really been Ezio’s forte. Sighing tiredly, he finally unfolds it.The letters scrawled across the page are not at all graceful and neat- they are nothing like Leonardo’s usual careful penmanship. Instead, it’s messy, the letters rough and squiggly, lacking in smoothness. This is the first red flag that tells Ezio that something is terribly wrong.The next red flag are the stains of dark red liquid splattered on the paper. He knows they’re not blood, and if the liquid had any odour before it arrived here at the Villa, it’s gone now. He suspects it was some kind of alcohol- the very thought leaves Ezio’s extremities numb, and his stomach twists.Did Leonardo write this when he was drunk? Did hesendit when he was drunk?And does Ezio even want to know what it says?
Relationships: Claudia Auditore da Firenze & Ezio Auditore da Firenze, Ezio Auditore da Firenze & Leonardo da Vinci, Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Leonardo da Vinci
Series: Only a Bird [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067156
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Auditore

The next five years Ezio spends in two ways. He travels the many cities of Italia to hunt down and eliminate whatever Templar presence there is, and- when there are no immediate threats for him to deal with, he returns to his uncle’s Villa and drinks himself into a stupor before crashing into his bed.

He occasionally receives letters from Venezia, from Antonio, informing him of the city’s current situation, and what steps the Thieves Guild was taking to try to improve the situation as best they can. The new Dodge never leaves _Palazzo Ducale,_ and after the previous Dodge’s death, precautions had been taken to prevent another infiltration of the _Palazzo_ from the air. So having Leonardo build a new flying machine to try getting in via the rooftops again is a no go.

Speaking of Leonardo, over the past five years- in addition to the messages Antonio was having him send- the _artista_ also sent some letters of his own. It was rare, and random, lacking in any regularity whatsoever.

It doesn’t matter.

Ezio has never seen their contents. Only the inferno usually blazing in the fireplace has, and of what the neat little scraps of paper had scrawled on them, the fire never speaks.

Both Uncle Mario and Claudia notice the young _assassino’_ s erratic, almost self-destructive behaviour. He shoots down any questions they fire at him with a sharp retort. He ignores Claudia’s offers to talk, ignores Mario’s suggestions of venting through some sparring. Paola comes to visit a few times, and Ezio ignores her comments and recommendations as well.

Ezio can still fight. He can still do the things he needs to thwart the Templars and their plans. He can still fight, he can still hunt, he can still kill. To act as if he needs to do anything else, to act as if anything else matters- it’s unthinkable. Incomprehensible. Impossible. It’s this kind of thinking that makes these five years blur together, the faces of those Ezio ends blur together, their names-

Everything is a blur, and when Ezio finally realises how much time has actually passed, how much he’s missed, it’s also unthinkable. Incomprehensible. _Impossible_. It’s as if he’d been sleeping this whole time, and only just now woke up.

Ezio finally sees the soft creases in his sister’s once completely smooth face, the streaks of grey sprinkled in his uncle’s hair…

When Ezio makes comment of this one night, while he and his sister are in the living room, sitting by the burning fireplace.

Claudia laughs.

“You only just now noticed, _fratello?”_ Claudia’s voice has changed too. It’s… a little deeper. Heavier. Older. Wiser. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

 _“Mi dispiace,_ Claudia-”

“Relax, Ezio,” Claudia cuts him off. “I was only teasing.”

The room falls into silence.

Claudia is the one to break it. “You have another letter from Antonio- it’s on Uncle’s desk.”

Ezio merely hums, his eyes locked onto the fireplace, watching the flames as they dance, the soft feathery yellow wisps twirling around one another, diving and soaring back up, their movements smooth and continuous. It was mesmerising. He wonders if the fire feels too. If the fire ever feels angry, or sad, or…

Alone.

Just like him.

“You also have a letter from Leonardo,” Claudia adds. Upon seeing the familiar anger contorting Ezio’s features, she goes on, “I think you should read it.”

“No. I will do no such thing.”

“You are so grown up,” Claudia replies, shaking her head in exasperation, “and yet you are still _such_ a _baby.”_

“I am not-!”

Claudia doesn’t wait for him to finish, instead shouting, “You _are!_ You are such an _idiota,_ I don’t even know where to start! I don’t even know if I _should_ start- it feels like I’m talking to a _cazzo di muro!!”_ Ezio opens his mouth to protest, but no words leave, as his sister is far from done. “He was your _best_ friend, Ezio. You and Leonardo had a connection, one that was perhaps much deeper and closer than the one you and I share. And yet you threw it all away based on _what?!_ A fleeting assumption?!? Ezio, you are so _fottutamente stupido!_ I have yet to meet _anyone_ more _stupido_ than you! If he doesn’t want to be friends anymore, then why does he keep sending you letters?!”

Claudia stops her rant for a moment, if only to take a breath. Ezio is too stumped for words at this point to speak.

“Did he even tell you to your _face_ that he didn’t want to be friends anymore??” Claudia’s voice has lowered back to its normal volume. “Or did you just assume that because you can’t even face the _facts?”_

Ezio’s silence is her answer.

“You are an _idiota._ How am I even _related_ to you?! Where did you inherit such overflowing _stupidity?!”_

Ezio still remains silent.

Claudia throws her arms up in frustration, standing up from her plushy chair. “Forget it. Just forget it. I can see you aren’t even _listening_ to me, as usual. Men. Men are idiots. Every last one of you!” With that, his sister storms off, grumbling in frustration, leaving Ezio to just sit there alone, stewing in his thoughts.

“I can’t face the facts,” Ezio murmurs, to no one but himself. What facts were there to face? He reflects on the memory, the memory of when he…

When he left.

Ezio stands up, the weapons on his belt clinking gently with the swift movement. He turns and trudges away from the fire, out of the sitting room, and into the hall. He doesn’t stop there- he heads down the staircase, and out the Villa door. The fresh air of the outside world fills his lungs, and as he steps further into the courtyard, he turns around.

And it hits him.

While Ezio’s been stuck in his own private little bubble of self-pity and delusion for the past five years- no, even longer. Ever since his father and his brothers were killed…

While he’s been trapped in the past, inside a cage of his own making, forged by his own two hands… everyone else has been moving forward with the future, the whole world passing him by for the past nine years. A future Ezio is so unprepared to face, so much so he almost locks himself back inside that cage.

_Almost._

“What have I done?”

The question is directed to no one, to nothing but the air. Naturally, it has no answer for him, save for a freezing cold breeze that chases Ezio back into the Villa. He slams the door shut behind him, and he shudders. The _assassino_ ’s entire body feel as if it’s weighed down by lead as he makes his way to Uncle Mario’s little office in the back of the Villa. There, on the desk, sit the two letters Claudia had spoken of earlier.

Ezio reaches for the one from Antonio first and opens the folded sheet of paper. He skims the words almost mechanically, his mind taking in the information on it, but not quite comprehending it either. He rereads it after taking a moment to clear his thoughts, and then he understands.

The annual _Carnevale_ is taking place later this year, and Antonio has reason to believe the new Dodge will finally come out of his fortress to participate in the celebration. Perhaps the Dodge believes that because Ezio hasn’t been seen in Venezia for five years, that he will be safe. That he can finally go out into the public, without worrying about whether or not he’s going to get knifed in the back while walking down the street.

A small smile spreads across Ezio’s lips.

The Dodge will be not-so-sadly mistaken. The _assassino_ folds the letter back up and slips it into the ivory folds of his robes. He hesitates, standing there beside the desk for what seems like hours, but is really only about a minute. And then finally he picks up Leonardo’s letter.

The sheet of paper feels incredibly heavy in his hands, even though he knows full well it weighs about the same as Antonio’s letter. Rationality, as it turns out, has never really been Ezio’s forte. Sighing tiredly, he finally unfolds it.

The letters scrawled across the page are not at all graceful and neat- they are nothing like Leonardo’s usual careful penmanship. Instead, it’s messy, the letters rough and squiggly, lacking in smoothness. This is the first red flag that tells Ezio that something is terribly wrong.

The next red flag are the stains of dark red liquid splattered on the paper. He knows they’re not blood, and if the liquid had any odour before it arrived here at the Villa, it’s gone now. He suspects it was some kind of alcohol- the very thought leaves Ezio’s extremities numb, and his stomach twists.

Did Leonardo write this when he was drunk? Did he _send_ it when he was drunk?

And does Ezio even _want_ to know what it says?

Swallowing hard, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. And then he opens them again, forcing his gaze to focus on the words. Minutes later, Ezio wishes he’d never read that letter. A long time passes, like a fading dream, and by the time his mind’s caught up with the rest of him, he finds that he’s sitting on his bed, the door to his room firmly shut, and the letter partially crumpled in his hands.

_No, this isn’t real-_

_This can’t be real-_

_… This_ is _real._

The letter is proof. Proof of this reality’s existence, proof that Ezio is once again too _little_ and too _late_. The only person he has to blame for this mess is _himself,_ and it took him so many years just to figure that out.

Ezio’s chest shudders, and he rereads the letter again, and again, and again- as if hoping the next time he reads it, the words will change.

But they don’t.

_ Ezio, _

_ I am writing to you this last time to tell you- I have finally figured it out. For the past nine years, I’ve been lying to myself. Lying, faking, hoping. I’ve cried myself to sleep, unable to stop thinking- I still can’t stop thinking. I hate it. I keep replaying that memory in my head, over and over, and I keep writing to you in the hopes of trying to salvage our friendship. I wait, and wait, and wait. I wait, hoping that you will write me back, that you will be my friend again.  _

_ And then, on this very night that I now write to you once more, I realised. We were never friends. I was only deluding myself.  _

_ Just like always. _

_ I find myself still clinging like the pathetic man that I am, clinging to the hope that you will prove me wrong. At the same time, I know that’s impossible. We were never friends. I don’t even know what we were in the first place. I don’t even know what I am looking for anymore. An answer? An answer to what? _

By this point, the words trail off into illegibility, in more ways than one. Not even Leonardo’s signature is readable.

Ezio finally closes the letter.

“What have I done?” he mutters to himself, hands fidgeting with the sheet of paper in his hands. Ezio knows full well what he’s done. He knows full well everything he’s done, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to fix any of it.

He doesn’t even know _if_ he _can_ fix it.

But he does know he has to _try_. Determination washes over him, and Ezio slides the letter into the folds of his robes as he stands up, boots hitting the floor with a _thunk_. He rushes out of his room, ignoring the door as it bangs against the wall when he throws it open. The _assassino_ hurries down the hall and down the staircase, only stopping when he almost crashes right into his Uncle Mario.

“ _Che diavolo?! Nipote,_ what’s going on?!?”

Ezio sidesteps, slipping past his uncle and heading for the door, replying with rushed words, “I am needed in Venezia- there are some things I need to take care of!” And with that, he’s out the door, sprinting down the courtyard, seemingly as fast as an eagle in flight.

Time never waited for him before. Why should it start now?

**Author's Note:**

> And Ezio finally gets his head (partially) out of his ass. He's still got a long ways to go though, obviously. LOOOONG, I tell you lmao


End file.
